


con alcuna licenza

by unsungillumination



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Character/ship tags and warnings to be added, College AU, Gen, University AU, but everyone has a crush on everyone you heard it here first, no established relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-04 10:16:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10988886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsungillumination/pseuds/unsungillumination
Summary: a college/band au.noctis lucis caelum is next in line to lead the country... but the only thing he’s really interested in is music. when his father agrees to let him pursue it at an interstate college, noct figures his newfound independence will finally grant him some freedom from the burdens he’s carried all his life and the opportunity to do what he loves.unfortunately, life is never quite that simple. discovering friendships both fresh and forgotten and struggling to navigate a brand new environment, noct finds himself unearthing lost truths with some sinister implications.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "con alcuna licenza" is a music term meaning "with some freedom".  
> 

   “Well, guess I’ll be seeing you.”

   Noctis slammed the trunk lid, squashing his bags down. Regis winced.

   “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” he asked, his eyes searching Noctis’ face.

   Noctis rolled his eyes. “Dunno about you,” he said, “but I’m ready as I’ll ever be.” Trailing a hand down the side of the Regalia the way he knew his father hated, he stepped around the car and yanked open the front door to slip into the driver’s seat.

   Regis put out a hand to hold the door before Noctis could close it. “Are you sure you don’t want a lift?”

   “Absolutely.” Noctis tugged on the door, but Regis kept a stubborn hold on it. “ _C’mon,_ dad.”

   “Take care,” insisted Regis. “Just remember - wherever you go -”

   “Yeah, yeah,” said Noctis, “I carry the line of Lucis with me, blah blah.”

   “Noctis, take this more seriously,” scolded Regis, and Noctis heaved a long suffering sigh.

   “I _get it_ ,” he said tersely, “the weight of the family name and the _whole goddamn world_ is on my shoulders, whatever. Can I _go?_ ”

   Regis hesitated, clearly wanting to say more, but Noctis tugged on the door again and Regis gave up. “You don’t want a security escort?” he asked for the millionth time, and Noctis shook his head.

   “It’s just college,” he said, and Regis sighed. “I’ll be _fine_ , I can take care of myself. Bye, dad.” He gave the door a final tug, and his father let go at last.

   Noct pulled out into the road, and as he reached up to adjust the rearview mirror he caught a glimpse of his father standing alone in the drive. For a moment, he felt a flash of guilt -

   - but then it was gone, replaced by resentment. Nineteen years of rules and regulations, of stern eyes and disappointed mouths, admonishments and restrictions and nothing, _nothing_ he could just do by himself _for_ himself.

   Noct flicked the mirror again and his father disappeared. He focused his eyes on the road.

   It was an understatement to say that growing up as one of the powerful and illustrious Lucis Caelum family had not been as glitzy or glamorous as his peers seemed to assume. His father, all kind eyes and fair words in the public eye, had certainly never pulled any punches with him.

   Noct snorted. The President’s son... He’d hated being raised in the midst of a political family and he liked even less the idea of inheriting his father’s title. He had no interest in leading a country. ‘Presidency’, but for how long his family had been in power it might as well have been a monarchy - and anyway, what sort of ‘presidency’ was it where _families_ reigned and presidency passed from parent to child? One ought simply to call him ‘Prince Noctis’ and be done with the whole foolish business.

   He slammed a hand against the wheel, feeling a small pit of anger starting to burn in his chest again. A lifetime’s worth of bitterness, but it seemed not to be slowing now, even as he drove away.

   Noct had long since decided he wasn’t having any of that. He was, surely, any parent’s worst nightmare - particularly one in the political sphere. A wayward son, abandoning the ‘family business’ to pursue - gods forbid - the _arts_.

   He smirked as he remembered the look on his father’s face when he’d explained that he wanted to abdicate - to instead apply to an interstate college to study music. The resulting storm had been tempestuous and he’d had to agree to some - he thought - utterly inane conditions, but it had been worth it. He was here now, and he gripped the wheel tighter as his home grew smaller and smaller behind him, feeling the bonds loosening more the further he drove.

   His father’s forlorn face flashed across his mind again and he blinked it away. This time belonged to him.

 

* * *

 

   Noct tugged at his bags with some futility. They were somewhat more more difficult to handle than he’d thought, and he realised rather abashedly that he’d relied on his father’s staff to load them into the car. He scowled.

   “D’you want a hand with that?” offered a nearby student. Noct cast a glance past her, eyes landing on two other students also struggling with their bags. He looked back at the first student and wondered if he’d imagined her sideways glance at the Regalia.

   “No, thanks,” he said. He tugged at the bags again and they tumbled out onto his foot. He cursed.

   “Hey, you’re that Caelum kid,” said another student, gaping at him. “RA said you’d be in here with us this year, but I didn’t believe it!”

   Noct laughed awkwardly. “Yeah,” he said, “yeah, that’s me.”

   “Wow!” The student stared at him with barely disguised awe. “What’s it like being the President’s son?”

   Noct gave a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders and turned back to his bags. This did very little to dissuade the small crowd of curious students who had gathered conspicuously to whisper in the corner of the lobby.

   There was a _ding_ as the elevator sank slowly to the ground floor. Noct closed his eyes against the growing chatter. This had been exactly what he _didn’t_ want - but, cursing himself, he admitted he should have been more prepared for it. It had been foolish to hope he might somehow be able to get through the year without this sort of ridiculous attention. Valiantly pretending not to notice the whispers, he focused on hauling his bags into an upright position and securing the rope that bound them together. He checked his key - third floor.

   Noct eyed the elevator. The elevator - or rather, several hopeful-looking students inside it - eyed him back.

   He opted for the stairs.

 

* * *

 

   Two and a half flights of stairs later, Noct was panting heavily and regretting just about everything he’d ever done in his life. he groaned as he heaved the bags up to the final landing, collapsing against the wall to catch his breath and cursing every object he owned. He glanced at his key again (his arms screamed - raising a key to eye-level should _not_ have been _this much effort_ ) and discovered to his intense dismay that his room was on the other side of the floor.

   He heaved himself to his feet with another groan and set about dragging his belongings behind him in a _thoroughly noble manner_.

   (His father would have been horrified. He slouched lower.)

   Finally, he arrived at his door and (with a rather dramatic sigh) raised the key to the lock -

   - and paused. There were _sounds_ inside.

   _Ah, that was right_ , he remembered suddenly - Noct was sharing the space this year. Not bothered to screen potential roommates (and half convinced he’d dislike them all anyway), he’d simply let the university randomly assign him one and resigned himself to the fact that he’d probably be living with an annoying groupie for the year. Whatever - he could deal with _one_ , so long as the guy didn’t have a horde of annoying friends.

   Steeling himself for an attack, he stuck his key into the lock and turned.

   It was at this point that several things proceeded to happen at once.

   The carefully tied rope around Noct’s bags snapped, and the neat bundle of bags promptly collapsed apart and tumbled to the floor. His duffel struck him in the back on its way down, which knocked him forward into the unlocked door. _This_ sent it swinging open, the force of his fall slamming it into the wall with a loud _BANG_.

   From his new and not-improved position on the floor, Noct had the vague impression of a silhouetted figure against the window. The figure had started and turned at the noise, and then ducked his head in an apparent attempt to catch a glimpse of Noct under the pile of bags. His face came into clearer view; his eyes were bright blue and curious, his hair blond, fluffy, and carefully wild.

   Noct raised his head to look at the figure as best he could, lying on his belly with a bag pressed to his back like some sort of demented turtle-penguin. “Hey,” he said. He feebly lifted a leg in greeting and knocked another small bag onto the floor.

   The figure blinked, and then grinned widely. “Hey!” he chirped, and then raised a camera. “Say cheese!”

   Noct glared into the camera as it clicked. No doubt this would be in the papers tomorrow and his father would be irate - just his luck he’d gotten some sort of _amateur journalism enthusiast_ as a roommate.

   The figure raised his camera and squinted at the screen. “Not bad,” he said appraisingly. He turned his attention back to Noct, and seemed to take note of his thunderous expression for the first time. His own face dropped. “Oh. Oh, no. I’m sorry.”

   Noct snorted. “Yeah, whatever.” He wiggled experimentally, trying to dislodge the bags. Something thudded ominously inside his suitcase and he froze, internally trying to catalogue which of his belongings he could afford to _immediately break_.

   “No, no-no-no,” chanted the figure, bobbing anxiously on his toes. “I’m sorry. I forgot - I know some people don’t like their photos taken - I should have asked -” He hurried forward and started carefully picking Noct’s bags off of him and replacing them into a neat pile off to the side. “Sorry! I’m just - I like taking photos. It’s a habit, you know -” he raised his camera with a sheepish grin - “I promise, I’m not gonna do anything, uh - _weird_ , with it, you know? I can delete it.”

   Noct blinked at him. The figure had thus far said nothing about selling the photograph, nor had he _fawned_ the way the downstairs students had.

   Perhaps his new roommate was a particularly good actor. Or perhaps he was just completely oblivious to any and all political activity.

   That one was preferable. “That’s okay,” Noct found himself saying before he could stop himself. “You can - uh, you can keep it. I guess.”

   The figure looked startled - and then he _beamed_. He offered Noct a hand, and for the first time that day, Noct accepted.

   “I’m Prompto,” he said, and pulled Noct to his feet with an excited little bounce. “I guess we’re roommates this year!”

   “Guess so,” said Noct, still mildly bemused. He offered Prompto a tentative smile. “I’m - I’m Noct.”

   “Noct, huh?” Noct braced himself, but Prompto just grinned again. “Nice to meet you!”

   “Y-yeah,” said Noct, thoroughly wrong-footed. “You - uh, you too.”

   Prompto glanced at Noct’s bags and whistled. “Geez, you’ve got a lotta stuff,” he said. “Need a hand unpacking?”

   _No_ , Noct almost said, out of habit - but then he looked into Prompto’s face again. All smiles, all innocence, and absolutely no recognition whatsoever.

   “Alright,” he said, and actually smiled. “Thanks.”

   “ _Nice!”_ Prompto acted almost as though Noct had just done _him_ a favour and busied himself undoing Noct’s bags. “Hey, I already picked a room. Uh, I hope you don’t mind.” He jerked his head at one of the bedrooms adjacent to the living area, and Noct peered inside. He could see some basic sheets on the bed and a pile of clothing next to the wardrobe with a yellow sticky note affixed to the top - presumably a somewhat belated reminder to buy some clothes hangers.

   There was something else. Noct abandoned his bags and took a step toward the room to squint at the small photo frame on the bedside table. Two people. “Are those your parents?”

   Prompto almost dropped Noct’s textbooks on his foot. “Huh? Oh -” he glanced in the direction Noct was gesturing and nodded with a nervous laugh. “Yeah, those are - those are the ‘rents, heh.”

   Noct looked at the picture again. It was an old photograph, and the people in the photograph looked too young to have a child as old as Prompto. They were smiling - laughing, even - and Noct thought they looked like nice people. He wondered why Prompto didn’t keep a more recent photograph - maybe one with him in it.

   “So - d’you mind?” asked Prompto, a little anxiously, and Noct jerked back to the present.

   “What? Oh - the room?” Noct shook his head. “I don’t mind.”

   “Sweet,” said Prompto, all smiles again. “Well, hey! You know what -” He pulled out his camera for the second time. “We should take a selfie! You know, a ‘new roomie’ selfie!”

   Noct’s mouth opened slightly in surprise. “A - a selfie?”

   “Yeah, you know!” Prompto flashed a peace sign and a cheesy grin at the camera and snapped a picture of himself, as though to demonstrate. “Unless - unless you don’t want to, I mean?” He bit his lip and looked at Noct uncertainly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to -”

   “Sounds fun,” interrupted Noct, smiling. Prompto beamed again and hopped over to tuck his arm around Noct’s shoulders.

   “Saaaaay ‘roomie’!’ he chirped.

   “‘Roomie’,” chorused Noct obligingly. As a delighted Prompto snapped the picture and exclaimed over it happily, Noct started to feel just the tiniest bit of hope flare up again at the prospect of the new school year.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> noct makes a friend, checks out his classes, and has some doubts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updated tags for clarification! this isn't really a shippy fic, so i took out the romantic tags. but like i said in the new tag, pretty much everybody has a crush on everybody else because im the writer and i can do that  
> this chapter is mostly lots of exposition i think, and also enter gladio!!
> 
> this chapter takes place over about a week of classes. also, i took some liberties with How College Works because creative license this is a Silly Fic dont take it seriously. nobody yell at me

   “...so what we see, in the underlying themes of _Gatsby’s_ opening chapters, is Fitzgerald’s commentary...”

   Noct’s head sank lower and lower, until his forehead finally dropped onto his notebook with a thud. _Gods_ , he regretted taking Classic Literature - but it had been one his father’s stupid conditions for coming to this school, and now he was stuck listening to the professor drone about the significance of - of an egg, or something.

   Whatever. He’d be fine as long as he could survive this next hour.

   “...the division between East and West Egg serves to contrast ‘old and new money’, which is to say…”

   And, you know. The next half year. Noct sighed into his desk and closed his eyes.

   Something jabbed him so hard in the ribs that he almost fell sideways off his seat. He jerked upright, indignant retort ready on his tongue -

   “Mr. Lucis Caelum,” snapped the professor, and Noct was suddenly wide awake.

   “Yes?” he tried, already mentally planning his funeral.

   “Would you care to answer my question?” asked the professor, in a voice that indicated very clearly that she didn’t care _what_ Noct cared to do.

   Noct swallowed.

   “Yes,” he said again. _No_ , his brain said. “Uh… The eyes. On the billboard. Represent God?”

   There was an ominous pause. The lecture hall seemed to fill with a combined aura of pity and relief that the sacrifice had this time been Noct and not someone else.

   Desperately, Noct shook his head. “I mean, uh, the green light across the lake is - um, a reference - a literary reference to… Harry… Potter…”

   “The question was ‘On which page does Chapter 3 begin’,” said the professor flatly, “but thank you for your analysis.”

   Noct slid down into his chair.

   Next to him, the source of the jab snorted. “You’re welcome,” said a dry voice.

   “Thanks,” muttered Noct, not making eye contact. “Sorry I fucked up anyway.”

   The guy chuckled low in his throat. “Nah,” he said, “First day of class, I get it. Late night?”

   Noct hesitates. “Sure,” he said. Feeling it was rude to keep staring straight ahead, he finally turned his head to offer the guy a tentative smile.

   And immediately forgot how to breathe.

   This guy was _big_ \- was he a guy or a behemoth?! - and his hair was scruffy and dark. There was a ( _frankly unnecessary_ ) ripple of muscles beneath his tattooed skin as he extended his hand.

   “Gladio,” he said, and Noct shook it, dazed.

   “I’m glad to see you’re making friends,” snapped the professor smoothly, turning her attention back to their corner, “but I’d much rather you paid attention in my class. Mr. Amicitia, care to summarise what I’ve just covered?”

   “Sure, Professor,” said Gladio. _Amicitia_ \- the name jabbed at something in Noct’s mind, as though he ought to recognise it, but Noct was too awestruck to pay the thought any heed as he watched Gladio perfectly reel off everything the professor had said in the past three minutes.

   The professor scowled and moved on.

   “How did you do that?” asked Noct, amazed, and Gladio smirked.

   “Acquired skill,” he said. “You’ll get there.”

   Noct whistled (and instantly regretted it when the professor shot him a baleful glare). He lowered his voice. “Sounds like you’re a useful guy to have around.”

   Gladio grinned again. “Nice to have you on board…?”

   “Noct.”

   “Noct,” repeated Gladio. “What, like the President’s kid?”

   Noct looked away. “Something like that.”

   Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gladio look at him carefully for a moment. “Cool,” he said finally. “Well, happy to help, Noct.”

   Noct looked at him quickly. Gladio was wearing the same easy grin as before, with nothing but a slight curious light in his eye to show that anything had changed. It was not, Noct noted, the hungry curiosity that came with your average common-or-garden gawper. It was more an almost fond intrigue - like Gladio found him interesting and wanted to see what he was made of.

   Noct felt a sudden and inexplicable urge to impress the big guy. “Won’t need your help next time.”

   “Oh?”

   “Yeah,” said Noct, feeling more confident. “I’m gonna ace this class.”

   Gladio started to grin wider. “That so?” he challenged.

   “Hell yeah.”

   “ _Mr._ Lucis Caelum!” barked the professor, and Noct snapped to attention. “Since you obviously feel you are too advanced to pay attention in my class, perhaps you can share your thoughts on the ending of Chapter 4?”

   “Yes,” said Noct. “Yes, I’ve… read that.”

   “Better luck next time, princess,” murmured Gladio as Noct scrambled to find the page, and laughed when Noct elbowed him.

 

* * *

 

   Classical Music did not see Noct faring much better.

   It was the cruelest case of déjà vu he’d ever experienced. His forehead once again found the desk as the professor droned; only _this_ time, the droning was _familiar_ droning and there was nothing he could endure here that he hadn’t already heard from his musical theory teacher in the fourth grade.

   His father’s voice echoed in his head. _“If you are going to study music,”_ he’d said in a pained voice, _“then at the very least, it must be classical. You must retain_ some _class.”_

   That had stung, and Noct was inclined to disagree, but he hadn’t dared to talk back. Not when he was so close to getting what he wanted. He’d endure what he had to.

   All the same, if he heard the teacher refer to ‘tas’ and ‘ti-tis’ one more time, he might scream. There had been no point explaining that he _wasn’t_ at an introductory level - the school only offered advanced classical music courses for students who already had their diplomas, and Noct wasn’t quite there yet. So ‘ta, ta, ti-ti ta’ it was.

   Noct glanced at his violin case, which was lying abandoned at his feet. The teacher had already informed them that they wouldn’t be required to bring their instruments for half the term, but he lugged it to class every lesson anyway. He leant forward casually, his hand slinking hopefully toward it -

   “No practical work just yet,” came his teacher’s sharp voice, cutting through his stupor. Defeated, Noct slumped back into his chair.

 

* * *

 

   Noct shifted uncomfortably. Officially, class had begun fifteen minutes ago, and several anxious students had already darted outside, evidently convinced that they were in the wrong place. Noct was inclined to join them - but on the other hand, he was _awfully_ tired.

   He folded his arms over his desk and sighed into his elbows.

   The door burst open and a tall layer-clad figure swept in at last. Everyone sat up.

   “Welcome to Introduction to Music History… MUSC1201 or something.” The figure smiled and shrugged. “I’ll be honest with you. I’m rather, ah… _dehydrated_ right now. I’m sure you understand.” He raised an opaque flask and took a long swig.

   Noct frowned. This was their professor?  
   “I am Professor Izunia, and I don’t have a course outline for you yet,” the figure continued, “because this is a garbage subject, and frankly, I couldn’t care less about it.”

   There was some offended muttering. Noct sat up straight, a little vexed. Was this some elaborate practical joke?

   For the first time that week, Noct paid full attention to the lecture. Professor Izunia laid out his rules, which were rather strict and almost nonsensical at times, but his actual lecture was… surprisingly good. For claiming not to care about the subject, his understanding was awfully deep and he answered questions smoothly and patiently. And there was a silken, eloquent quality to his voice that made it a challenge _not_ to listen, even for Noct.

   Still, there was something unkind about his laugh - and _what_ was in that flask?

   By the end of the lecture, Noct had absolutely no idea what to think.

   “Remember, my door is always open,” said Professor Izunia kindly, as the students packed up. “Now get out.”

   He gathered up his materials (the flask and one single pen) and drifted toward the door again. Right before he slipped out, his eyes swept the hall - and landed directly on Noct.

   Noct gulped as Professor Izunia fixed him with a piercing stare. The professor was smiling, and he looked perfectly friendly - but something behind his eyes was cold, almost hungry.

   Professor Izunia broke his gaze after only a moment and exited the hall with a cheerful chuckle. It left Noct feeling chilled for the rest of the day.

 

* * *

 

   “It’s just such a waste of _time_ ,” complained Noct.

   Prompto, perched on a stool by the breakfast bar, glanced back over his shoulder. “What is?”

   “Classical,” said Noct, and stretched his arms over his head so that he draped further over the back of the dining chair. “It’s just - nothing I didn’t already know, I wish I could just _drop it_ -”

   “Why don’t you?” asked Gladio. There were three textbooks lying open in front of him where he was sprawled on the floor - scrolling through a newsfeed on his phone.

   Noct groaned. “Another one of dad’s conditions,” he said. His textbooks were laid out on the table in front of him, too, but unlike Gladio’s, they were completely untouched. He lowered his voice in a mockery of his father. _“If you’re going to study music, then it has to be_ cultured _._ ” He spat the last word out like it tasted bad. _“Also, I’m a giant butt.”_

   “He didn’t really say that?” asked Prompto, amused.

   “He _implied_ it.”

   Gladio idly turned a page in his book without looking at it. “So drop the subject and don’t tell him.”

   “I can’t do _that_.”

   “Why not?”

   “Because -” Noct stopped. “I just can’t.”

   Gladio snorted. “Goody two-shoes.” He returned to not-his-textbooks.

   “ _I’m_ _not_.” Noct gritted his teeth, irrationally angry all of a sudden. He _knew_ it wasn’t Gladio’s fault - there was no way he could understand what it was like to grow up trapped in the limelight the way Noct had.

   Still.

   Prompto yawned, rolling his shoulders back. “I mean, even if you drop Classical, you’d still be doing Music History, right?” he offered.

   Noct hesitated. “Yeah,” he said, and tried not to think about Professor Izunia and his cold eyes.

   “C’mon, princess,” said Gladio. “Do something dumb for once in your life.” His phone beeped, and he glanced at it briefly before hopping up. “Ah, I gotta go, Iggy needs me to pick up some groceries.”

   Prompto snickered. “Wow,” he teased, “sounds like you two have the perfect married life.” He immediately shrank when Gladio shot him a glare. “Sorry!”

   Gladio kept the glare up for another moment, letting Prompto squirm, before relaxing into a booming laugh. “You bet,” he pronounced. “I’m the best fucking husband in the country.” He leant down to ruffle Noct’s hair. “Take care, kiddos.”

   “We aren’t kids,” Noct and Prompto shouted after him as he took his leave.

   Prompto glanced over from his bench again. “You really considering dropping Classical?”

   “No,” said Noct at once, and then shook his head as though to override his programming. “I mean, I don’t know.”

   “It might be fun. You know keys, right? You could pick up Contemporary.” Prompto mimed playing an air guitar and made ‘nyow, nyow’ noises.

   “You’re a bad influence,” complained Noct, and Prompto laughed. “I’d need a band.”

   Prompto shrugged. “Hey,” he said, “I mean, I know you’d need someone better eventually, but if you need someone to fill in for a while…”

   Noct sat up. “You actually play?” he asked.

   Prompto shrugged again. “Not well,” he said, blushing. “I mean, I’m self-taught. But... I do have my electric in the closet,” he finished in a mumble.

   Noct began to grin. “Dude,” he said.

   “I’m not good,” insisted Prompto, going even redder. “It’s just - it’s just fun, you know?”

   “Show me,” pressed Noct. “C’mon dude, show me.”

   “Ah… A-alright,” said Prompto, and scurried to fetch his guitar.

   By the time he finished playing, Noct was beaming harder than he had done all week. “Dude,” he said, eyes sparkling. “Let’s start a band.”

   Prompto looked startled for a moment. And then his face broke out into a radiant grin to rival the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took me this long to update lmao i have been very busy and also have the attention span of like, a moth probably, but it's here now and i hope u liked it!!
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr ](https://yuriopirozhki.tumblr.com)  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/gIadio_amicitia)

**Author's Note:**

> so this au kind of... got out of hand.  
> fair warning: this fic starts off pretty lighthearted, but if it follows the plot i'm planning ~~and let's be real, it probably won't, but let's pretend i have control over my own writing for a hot minute~~ then it'll start to get a little heavier after a few chapters. i mean, it probably won't be like, soul-crushing. i just don't wanna start off by pretending this is just gonna be a fluff-fest with college shenanigans and guitars, and then dive off a cliff into the Eastern Angst Sea. so i guess this is your official heads up. :)  
>  it'll be stupid for a few chapters first, though. i hope you liked it!!
> 
>  
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/gIadio_amicitia)  
> [tumblr](https://yuriopirozhki.tumblr.com)


End file.
